vampire send Gabriel a note luring him to a kill?
His senses snapped back to high alert. As James rose, he tried to detect once more that feeling of lurking threat, as though it was a real thing and not a Pavlovian response learned on a foreign battlefield.
A shape detached from the shadows high above him, from the girders underneath the bridge. It dropped like a stone towards Gabriel, who was talking in an urgent and irritated tone into his phone.
James launched himself at Gabriel, twisting as he dragged him to the ground, so that he took the brunt of the fall as they landed, and sent the phone flying. James twisted again, pressing Gabriel into the mud and pebbles and covering Gabriel’s head and torso with his own. Gabriel was finding air to protest as James leapt to his feet, ready to spring at the assailant.
There, by the embankment, nowhere to go but… up. The shape stirred in the dim light and James could see dark hair, pale skin, wicked teeth unsheathed in a voiceless snarl. Its arm lifted, moved and James had time to see the projectile hurtle towards them, so fast it whistled in the night air. A black pebble, spinning, like a bullet, straight for Gabriel as he stumbled to his feet. James stepped into its path and snatched it from the air, hissing as it stung his palm.
‘James? What the–’
The shadowed figure had gone. It leapt straight up the embankment to the wall above and disappeared.
James turned towards Gabriel, shaking the sting from his hand as he dropped the stone. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Fine, given the rugby tackle.’
‘Sorry about that.’
‘Where did he come from?’
‘Who?’
‘Very funny. That man. Nice catch, by the way.’
James’s glance flicked to the pile of ashes and the body.
Gabriel followed his gaze. ‘Oh.’ He flexed his hands and clenched them again. He spotted his phone, screen glowing, in the mud, and snatched it up. He wiped the instrument off on his shirt and pressed it to his ear. ‘Vic?’
James could hear the waspish buzz of a voice in reply.
‘Yes, well someone attacked us a minute ago… yes, us. I’m here with a friend.’
James was listening for any noise heralding imminent attack, but they were alone in the darkness.
‘You’re hilarious, Vic. Are you coming? I think we’ve found Daryl Mulloway… It’s too late for an ambulance. Forensics better come fast, though. The tide’s coming in.’
Detective Inspector Victor Bakare and his team were with them fifteen minutes later. Bakare took in their shabby track suits with no comment but a sardonically raised eyebrow. Gabriel told the policeman what he knew of Hannah’s disappearance and the circumstances that had brought him to Chelsea Bridge. Gabriel appeared calm, but James could hear his heart thundering, and see the horrified glances he darted towards the corpse.
James didn’t look at the body. All of his other senses were too well aware of it. Instead, he watched the police investigating the scene, taking photographs, measuring things, and bagging up potential evidence. One officer in particular was staring at the two of them; staring at him. She was a plainclothes detective, her dark brown eyes glared at him in a strange fashion – both judgemental and pitying.
The looks she gave Gabriel were harsher still. Suspicious and angry. James knew she had it the wrong way around. If she’d understood anything about them at all, she’d have known that James was the one deserving of suspicion and rage.
He returned his attention to Gabriel and the DI. Bakare was giving James pointed sidelong looks.
Gabriel, with a sigh, took the hint. ‘Detective Inspector Victor Bakare, this is Doctor James Sharpe.’
Bakare arched an eyebrow at James without offering a hand to shake. ‘And you’re Gabe’s what? Jogging partner? Street buddy? Boyfriend? Parole officer?’
‘I’m his landlord,’ said James, deadpan.
‘His landlord.’ Bakare packed an awful lot of scepticism into three syllables, a talent for which he thanked his Nigerian forbears.
James offered a mild smile. ‘I take the vetting procedure very seriously. Tomorrow, I’m following him to the gallery to decide whether he’s a good enough artist to stay under my roof.’
Bakare was unimpressed. ‘I do love a comedian,’ he said flatly. ‘Especially at a murder scene where someone’s been butchered and burned to death.’
James sighed ruefully. ‘Dr James Sharpe. I work at the Lester Avenue clinic. Gabriel does rent a room from me, and I offered to accompany him when he got the note to come here.’
‘More than a landlord then, eh?’
‘Friends,’ asserted James.
‘Plus,’ interjected Gabriel lightly, ‘trustworthy tenants are hard to come by, I expect, and James didn’t want his new one to be murdered all alone under Chelsea Bridge if he could help it. I’ve only just settled in.’
Gabriel’s eyes met James’s and there was that flash of humour again.
‘He’s paid ahead,’ said James drily. ‘So I’d have had some breathing space. Still. I like him a lot better than the last tenant; I’m hoping not to have to replace him soon.’
Bakare rolled his eyes at the pair of them. ‘You two were bloody made for each other.’
Gabriel turned away from them both. James looked at the dark ribbon of the Thames, with the lights glinting off the inky black. ‘Tide’s coming up.’
‘So it is,’ Bakare agreed. ‘Why don’t you go home, and come into the station tomorrow to sign your statements.’
‘I’m at my clinic tomorrow,’ said James. ‘I’ll come after work.’
‘Good. Ask for me or Sergeant Datta.’ Bakare indicated the dark-eyed, dark-skinned woman who had been giving James and Gabriel the unfriendly appraisals. ‘See you first thing, Gabe.’
Gabriel was watching the forensics team work on the site. ‘I won’t talk to Datta.’
‘Gabe…’
‘Vic, she doesn’t like me. She wants to pin this on me already and I didn’t bloody do it. I’ve been trying to find Hannah. Ben Tiller and Alicia Jarret too… what?’
Bakare hadn’t covered his surprise quickly enough. ‘This Alicia Jarret you’ve been looking for,’ he said, ‘Tell me about her.’
‘She went missing a week ago,’ said Gabriel. ‘She’d found a place in a shelter and then she vanished. One of her friends asked me to keep an eye out for her. No-one’s seen her, or heard a whisper. She didn’t show up on her usual corner to sell The Big Issue, she didn’t go to her clinic appointment. Nothing.’ Gabriel drew a breath. ‘She’s dead, isn’t she?’
‘Found
